Wild Wild West?
by Cardcaptor Ryoko
Summary: PARODY, rated to be safe. What happens when the FMA cast is flung into a gun-slinging Western? Chaos, shootouts, and a bit of hilarity on the side. Mostly humor, but there's some RoyAi at points too.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters, and likewise I do not own John Cunningham's short story "The Tin Star," on which this parody is based. Also, I apologize for any out-of-character instances. Also, I do not own Forrest Gump (there's a mild reference to it later on)

* * *

"Lights, camera, and… ACTION!"

"What am I supposed to do again?" Roy Mustang stood in the middle of the set, instead of his normal blue military uniform wearing a white dress shirt, an old vest, cowboy boots and trousers, a cowboy hat, and of course, a little tin star on the side of the aforementioned vest. "And why am I dressed like this?" The author head-palmed in frustration and sighed impatiently.

"First off, this isn't a play, or a movie, or anything of the sort, so why is there the 'lights, camera, action' thing?! Second – " a gun shot in the background. "GREED! DON'T USE THE STINKIN' GUN UNTIL YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO!" The author growled in frustration. "Enough fooling around, we gotta get started with this fanfic! The readers don't have all day to read this, so chop-chop!"

"Fanfic?!" everyone in the room asked, astonished at this declaration.

"Yeah, what did you think this was?" Greed raised his hand, also dressed in similar cowboy attire to Roy sans the sheriff star, vest, and hat. And of course, he still wore his signature sunglasses. "What?"

"I quit."

"No, you can't quit! You're taking the place of Frank Miller in the story! If you quit, Roy won't have any opposition aside from your three peons!"

After the author set everyone straight (we had to skip a bit of what went on there for time's sake) , the scene changed from a theater set to a small church in a small Texas town, much like the ones you see in old Western movies. In this church, men, women, and children were seated, listening to a rather peculiar preacher quote an excerpt from the book of Isaiah. For those not familiar with the Old Testament or the Bible in general, all you need to know is that it was – oh, heck with it.

"And the wicked shall be as stu –" just as the preacher was about to say "stubble," our favorite cowboy sheriff attire-clad alchemist, Roy Mustang, came on the scene.

"Thank you, thank you very much." Roy bowed before the preacher and the congregation staring at him.

"Thank you… for what?" The chubby, bald preacher asked perplexedly.

"Wait a sec…" Roy paused a moment. "Aren't you that Cornello guy that Fullmetal took out?"

"Hey, I'm just playing the part because that's where the author placed me."

"Speaking of the author…" Roy looked behind him to glare at the person typing this right now.

"What? The 'everyone's favorite alchemist' thing is an opinion of some people. Personally, I prefer Ed." The author replied to his glare flatly.

"I thought normally the author doesn't have any speaking lines in a fanfic."

"In this one I do. Now, continue…" Roy reluctantly turned around and began playing out his part normally… almost a little too normally, as some might observe.

"My apology for interrupting your sermon, Reverend, but this is a dire emergency." The preacher stared blankly at our raven-haired alchemist-cowboy-sheriff friend.

"You already have, Marshal Mustang. And considering you didn't even get married in the church this morning and you don't come here in the first place, it's a surprise to see you here."

"I didn't get married here, Reverend, because my wife's a…" Roy looked blankly in the direction of the author again. "What's a Quaker? And how would that affect whether or not Riza and I would be married in a church?"

"Just go with it, Mustang," the author replied.

Roy repeated the line, this time in full. "I didn't get married here, Reverend, because my wife's a Quaker… And I guess for some reason they don't get married in churches."

"Then where do they get married?"

"Uh…." Roy paused yet again, but then proceeded with continuing with the dialogue. "Anyway, Greed's out of prison, as you all know. And you also know he's out to get me."

"So what?!" a vertically-challenged blond-haired man in the back called. "A world without Mustang – what better gift is there?"

"Thank you for your unfaltering love and support, Fullmetal," Roy responded, applauding sarcastically as he did so. At this point, the author for the most part gave up on the Flame Alchemist and let him do this story the way he wanted to. After all, who said this would be according to the original? "As I was saying," the "sheriff" continued, "Greed's coming on the afternoon train at noon. And his lackeys are already waiting for him. I can't possibly take them alone, so I'll need some backup. Any volunteers?" Crickets began chirping in the church before someone finally stood up. It was Kain Feury, with a few of Roy's other subordinates in the actual Fullmetal Alchemist series whom this author is too lazy to name at the moment.

"What are we waiting for?" Feury asked as he stood up and walked towards the pulpit in front of which Roy stood before the preacher. Until…

"Wait a sec, wait a sec!" It was Edward again. "Why should we help him? He's retiring from being Marshal to go away with his new wife! Let's think this over for a sec before we rush into battle." The Fullmetal Alchemist's comments incited a riot among the congregation of mostly side characters that pop up every now and then in the actual series and have few lines if any.

"QUIET!" A man stepped to the front and stood beside Roy. It was the town mayor, Scar. The large, dark man spoke again. "Take the children outside, and let's discuss this the old fashioned way."

"Somehow," Roy remarked, "Coming from you, I'm a bit scared to find out just what you mean by 'the old fashioned way.'"

"The author took away my alchemy so I wouldn't kill you and offered to return them to me after this is done if I cooperate, so you're safe… for now," Scar whispered in Roy's ear.

"Then why isn't she using her author powers to control us in the way she wants to for this story?"

"She thinks 'it'll be more interesting this way'."

For a good hour or so, the congregation debated on whether or not it was wise for anyone to stand up and fight alongside the Marshal. One man in the room, Alex Louis Armstrong, declared that Roy was "The best Marshal the town had ever had," and that it was their problem as well as his if Greed came for him. This caused more rioting, especially between Edward and the town's resident cross-dressing palm tree, Envy. Upon hearing the author's narration, Envy glared and shouted in her general direction.

"I heard that! … Whoever said it."

"You're dumber than you look," Ed pointed out, returning to his seat before. "Now shut up, this is my favorite part."

"People, people!" Scar raised his voice once more to calm the crowd. "As Mr. Armstrong pointed out, Marshal Mustang so far is the best Marshal we ever had, and maybe will be the best Marshal we ever will have. But if you think about it, by staying in town he's just bringing the trouble onto us. I say he should leave town, and never return unless Greed for some odd reason gives up, or I – er, Greed I mean, kills him." With those words, at least among the congregation, it was official: Roy Mustang was all alone this time.

But our Cowboy Flame Alchemist wouldn't give up yet.

He turned to whom he thought to be his last hope, the previous sheriff. King Bradley was his name, which many people thought to be humorous in the town. What mother would have the cruelty to name her American son "King," when there was no chance that he would ever become such, unless he were to conquer Texas for his own and declare himself as king. Why isn't Roy interrogating the author at this moment? The answer is simple. For this one part, at least, the author decided to use her powers to make everything seem less like a performance cast with the characters, but more of an actual alternate-universe story. But this was mostly because she feared Pride's sword. Roy knocked on his former superior's door.

"Come in," the wife, whose mother being just as cruel as her husband's, named her Sloth, answered as she opened the door for their guest. "Oh, Roy! What brings you here?"

"If it's possible, I need to talk to your husband. It's very important, ma'am."

"Let him in," the husband called from his armchair in the living room. Roy stepped in and looked to his predecessor in respect. The man had a slightly receding hairline and wore one eye patch over his right eye. Or was it his left…? The author is currently too lazy to check and thus, at least in this story, it's on the right.

"Sir, Greed's coming back for me."

"I heard that much when I passed the church on my morning stroll. No one will help ya, eh?"

"I'm afraid not. What should I do? Better yet, what would you do?"

"If I were you," the ex-sheriff began, beckoning Roy to light his cigar. He quickly did so, and the old man continued his speech. "I'd leave town. Get out of here. You said the guy has three scoundrels after you?"

"Yes, that's what I've heard."

"There's no way a man can face them alone. Say, what about your wife? I heard she was a good shot before she went Quaker, whatever that is."

"She…" it pained Roy to say this, especially when it had been only but an hour since the couple was united in matrimony. "She said that if I fight, she'd leave me. She's got her bags already packed for the noon train, the same one Greed's coming on."

"Well," Bradley said, "I say go with her, if you're man enough. Either way, it's not safe for ya here."

"I'm afraid I can't run. If I do, Riza and I will be on the road the rest of our lives, and that's no life for someone like her."

"She's a tough lass, I think she's willing. What she won't put up with is a stubborn bull like you're being right now."

Speaking of the aforementioned "tough lass," Riza Hawkeye, now as of that morning Mrs. Riza Hawkeye Mustang, stood impatiently in the lobby of an apartment building. Her white dress didn't differ much in color or style from her wedding dress that she had worn but an hour ago, and rather than her usual "clipping the hair behind her head" look, her gold locks were in two braids tied together behind her head, the end of the tail tucked behind one of the two braids. The man at the front of the lobby finally looked up and asked what she needed.

"I'd like to see Miss Ramirez, if she's here."

CUT!

"Since when did I have a last name? And Ramirez?" Lust questioned the author.

"Look, that's the last name of the sheriff's ex in the story, so I improvised. You'll only be called that once in the entire thing, got it?"

Continuing with the story, the man replied quickly to Riza's request.

"Oh, Lust? Yeah, she's still here. Her room's the third one to the left on the second floor."

"Thank you," Riza answered graciously and, picking up her skirt slightly so as it wouldn't drag on the ground, she ran up the stairs to the third door on the left, and knocked. A very attractive, well-endowed woman answered the door. She was clad in a black dress that, I won't lie, was rather low-cut, but still covered the oroborous tattoo just above her left breast.

"Please, come in."

Riza stepped into the apartment, almost reluctantly, and stood at one side.

"You can sit down, you know."

"No thank you," was Riza's reply. "If I sit down, I might not get up again."

"Roy's pissed you off already, huh?" Lust wore a very unsurprised look on her face.

"I just don't understand him!" she exclaimed in frustration. "We were married an hour ago. We had our bags, tickets, and everything, but then this had to come up! I begged him to run, but he refuses. Says a life on the run is no life for a lady."

"So you're leaving him, after only being married an hour?" Lust asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What choice do I have?"

"I'm not ragging on you or anything, but if he were my man, I'd stand up and fight beside him, no matter who or what it was, Quaker or not."

"I saw my father and brother die by gunshot. My brother was only nineteen. I just think there's a better – wait, wait, wait! Now it's _my_ turn to cut off the storyline. Who wrote this?!"

The author called for a cut scene… again.

"Riza, after Roy ruined the church scene and doubtless would've taken reign of the asking for advice scene earlier, you can do what you want, girl." The author shrugged. "Besides, I never expected you to fit perfectly into the character of the wife to begin with; she's kind of a pansy until near the end."

"Secondly, what _is_ a Quaker?"

"It's a religious person who is vegetarian, believes that going to church isn't necessary to still be close to God, and doesn't believe in violence, even for self-defense (no offense if I have anything over-stereotyped)"

"Wouldn't that describe you?" she asked, arms folded and staring flatly at the author.

"No, no, I'm Mormon; and I do too eat meat! Keep in mind, the Nephites had to defend themselves at times, too. They just didn't instigate the fighting most of the time."

"Then screw that notion; can I just say that Roy's being his usual stubborn self and it's pissing me off?"

"Go right ahead, it's all yours now."

"Wait, when did I have a brother?" Riza denounced her prior words, now returning to the regular storyline. "The point is, he's just… ugh! Doesn't he see that he can't take them on on his own? Has he gone mad?!" Shocking everybody on the sidelines watching this and even the author, tears actually began to slowly stream from her eyes.

"Well with the 'no life for a lady' comment, it sounds like Roy's either stupid or stupid in love. Then it would explain why he married you… Say, if you still wanna leave him, I'm going on the same train as you. I hate this town, and it's about time I get out."

"Sure, why not? Maybe if he survives he'll be smart enough to come after me."

Shortly afterward, the two women left in a horse buggy for the train station, bags and all.

Roy was now in the old stable where his horse was kept. He stared at the horse and his saddle, set aside, thoughtfully. A man latching the saddle onto the horse interrupted his thoughts. It was his old deputy, Jean Havoc. Roy just stood there perplexed at Havoc's actions.

"Havoc, why are you saddling my horse?"

"Because, Marshal," Havoc solemnly replied; the hard look in his eyes almost gave him the appearance of having drank too much. "You're getting out of here. It's best for you, and for the town. Heck, what'll become of your wife? I saw what a mess you were between Lust dumping you and meeting Riza. And what if you get killed?! She'll rip you a new one the moment she gets to heaven and sees you, that's for sure."

"I'm aware of that, Havoc, but I can't let Greed push me around like this!"

"You don't have any say in it; if I have to punch you out, you re getting on that hoss – wait, what's a hoss?" It's cowboy slang for a horse. "Oh… thank you random narrator-author-person." You're very welcome. Why is the author arguing with the characters through narration now? The other format was getting tiring and she doesn't want to make this one-shot any longer than it already is.

Long story short, Roy and Havoc had a fistfight, in which Roy won and left Havoc lying in the barn, the horse still saddled.

Dejected and feeling almost hopeless, Roy walked into the sheriff station. It was only a few minutes left until noon, and once that clock struck twelve, his bride would be gone forever and he was toast. This was later confirmed when his current deputy at the time, Maes Hughes, backed out on him after hearing there would be no backup. But Roy couldn't blame him; he had a wife and child, after all. It wouldn't be fair to them if the man of the house died over trying to help settle Roy's mess. The last thing he did before writing out his will, was releasing the town drunk, Gluttony.

"Do you know if the saloon's open, Marshal?" He asked just as he was about to leave the door.

"I said go _home._"

And with that, he wrote a brief document, titled "The Last Will and Testament of Marshal Roy Mustang." Soon enough, it was time. A timid young boy of about fifteen climbed up from a lower level of the building.

"Sorry Marshal, I couldn't get any reinforcements. But I'll fight with you! I beat Ed in our sparring matches nearly every time! I can take 'em!" Roy looked down at the boy sternly. It was obvious he wouldn't let him do it.

"Al, I can't. First, your brother would kill me if you had so much as a scratch on you. Second, have you even handled a gun?"

"… No. But I have alchemy!"

"But Greed has guns, Alphonse! GUNS! If you could do it with a clap of the hands like your brother, maybe, but not even that would be fast enough."

"Please, I can –"

"No, and that's my final answer!"

The clock struck twelve.

Riza and Lust had just arrived at the train station as the train lethargically pulled in. Once they boarded that train, they would leave behind the town and its inhabitants forever. Just as they got on, a man with short, spiky hair and small, round sunglasses stepped off. Just the air about the man was dangerous, and many around him could tell this and backed away, more so after he smiled his sinister smile, revealing his pearl-white, pointed teeth. He was none other than Greed, the very man who sought the sheriff's life. Waiting for him at the station were three shady men, obviously impatient for his arrival 'til now. The moment Riza saw them from out the window, her resolve completely diminished. Discreetly, she left her bags to be unloaded by the bellboy and followed them, not even once giving away her presence to the vagabonds. Beneath her skirts, a handgun was strapped to her leg. Lust merely looked on as the train rolled away.

"We ready, boys?" Greed questioned, eyeing his partners in crime.

"Sure as that meatball in the sky we are!" one called. "We been waitin' for ya, Greed!"

"Meatball in the sky? Who made up this cheesy dialogue?" The author glared at Greed, reminding him that he was defenseless in this fic, having been robbed of his Ultimate Shield powers so as to make it fairer for Roy, and that technically she could kill him off right then and there. He resumed with the storyline as planned and made no more comment on the dialogue.

The four goons –

"I am not a goon!"

Okay, okay, the homunculus and his three goons walked into the center of town, prowling like lions after their prey- in this case, Roy Mustang. Before her cover was blown, Hawkeye hid in the nearby shop, looking out the window at _her_ prey. However, she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't shoot until they dispersed and divided. At least that way the others couldn't shoot at her.

Roy walked out of the sheriff's office and, gun in hand, and hid behind a pillar so as to not be seen by his pursuers. But he could see them. Taking careful aim, he lifted the revolver and pulled the trigger on one of the lackeys. The man fell dead, and Roy had to run quickly to evade the rapid shower of gunfire afterward.

As expected, the remaining three split up to look for the target. Roy, not suspecting anyone would find him, hid in a barn somewhere elsewhere in the town. It was quite some time before goon number two arrived. Roy attempted to shoot at him from the top of the barn, but missed. Bad move. The lackey decided, in an attempt to sneak up on him, to enter the barn, and shoot from underneath. But Roy anticipated this, and moved to a different part of the loft before he did so. Bang! Another one down. This time he didn't miss.

"Why did I even miss the first time?" Keep in mind, I'm not too good at writing out fight scenes, and I have zero experience with gun fighting stuff like this. This is the first gunslinger I've ever tried parodying.

But his troubles weren't over yet.

"What's going to happen this time, the last goon's gonna come and light the barn on fire?" Maybe, maybe not…

As Roy predicted, the third and last lackey did come along. Seeing his dead comrade on the ground in the barn, he figured that Roy was likely still up in the loft. Instead of shooting at him, however, he thought of a much, what he thought to be, cleverer idea. He took two lanterns, threw them into two separate piles of hay, and ignited them both by gunshot. All he had to do was sit outside the barn and wait for the prey to emerge, or burn.

Assessing the situation, Roy recalled that this barn in particular held horses. He jumped down from the loft, evading the flames, and one by one scared each of the horses out of the barn. On the last, he stole an old Indian trick. All the gun fighter saw was a stampede of horses, never once noticing a man hanging on the other side of the last one.

Back in the center of town, the third goon had returned to see if by some off chance Roy might have mysteriously escaped. Or he was looking to see if Greed was still alive, one or the other. Either way, this was Riza's chance to prove her skills with a gun. Just as the lackey was checking his ammo, in similar experience to Forrest Gump, her bullet "bit" him in the buttocks. The sole difference aside from setting, the lackey didn't survive the gunshot wound as Forrest had. Riza, still holding the gun, observed her handiwork.

"Huh… didn't mean to get him there," she thought aloud. "But, so long as he's dead, I'm not complaining." Unfortunately, her thoughts were what gave her away…

Roy was in the sheriff's office again, this time hiding from what he thought were the last two left until he saw the unfortunate third lackey sprawled on the dusty road. In the parlor across that road, a man emerged, holding in front of him a woman in white, her hair braided behind. Roy recognized both immediately. The last person he wanted involved at the wrong end of the mess, Riza, was now captive at the hands of his predator. The man who had captured her was Greed.

"Mustang! Come out here and fight like a man!" Greed called out hastily, still holding one hand firm over Riza's mouth. She struggled to escape, but her attempts were futile. Enraged by these actions, Roy responded to the man's challenge.

"Not until you let her go," he declared, standing out the door. In doing so, he was fully aware that he was making himself an open target.

"Much obliged." He released Riza, and the moment her hands were free, she socked him in the face. The hostage was now the captor, and the captor was now unconscious and about to face his end by, not the gun of his enemy, but something far more humiliating: that of his enemy's wife. But in this story, at the very least –

"Aw come on, you're gonna let Riza take him out?" Roy whined in the background at the author.

"We all know she'd be the one to save your butt in a situation like this anyway," the author replied smugly, continuing with modifying her latest cosplay costume while reading _Les Miserables _(A/N: note I'm not doing those two things at the exact same time, my fingers would be bleeding like heck if I did. But I am working on both at equal intervals with this fic).

Greed was never fortunate enough to regain consciousness before Riza shot his face in the same place she punched him.

"Wow…" Roy staggered in awe. "But I thought Quakers didn't believe in vio –" Riza stopped him mid-sentence and walked up to where he stood, having already stowed away her gun.

"An old friend of yours – and that guy's creepy aura," she turned to look at Greed's corpse, "Un-converted me, so to speak. And if you honestly thought I was just gonna let you die only two hours after we've been married, don't kid yourself. I didn't marry you so I could become a widow in a day."

"Uh… " Roy glanced at his sadly for now only in-story wife. "Isn't this the part where we're supposed to kiss and make up?"

"Don't push your luck, Colonel." And with that, they both walked back to the train station, Roy running after his wife the whole way.

"Wait? Colonel? Whatever happened to our marriage? Come on, you don't really mean this was all for show! If this were real life," and it was then that he finally popped the question, breathless as he was from running. "After this thing is over, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, I order you to marry me!" WHACK! Moments after uttering these words, he tasted the leather of Riza's carry-on suitcase. The next train had already arrived.

"Just shut up and get on the train, we'll talk it over later."

After the ending scene rolled, Greed jumped back up on his feet, completely uninjured.

"No one was actually hurt in the writing process of this fanfic. Canon-wise, I'm still… dead and replaced by the Xing guy (A/N: manga reference). Also, sadly in the canon Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang are not yet married, nor will they likely ever be, at least to the author's knowledge. And being short does not make Edward Elric a shrimp." He let the note card from which he was reading fall to the ground. "Can I go now?"

"Actually," the author replied, "I'd highly recommend you do that. I can see the fangirls coming to attack me already."

* * *

A/N: man, three days to write this one fic… and I swear, it's the longest one-shot I've ever written, and probably ever will write. And it'll probably the closest I'll ever get to an actual pairing fic, too. Again, I don't own any of the creative properties named, all I own character-wise is the author, who is me if you couldn't already tell.

Reviews are appreciated, unintelligent flames are not.


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